


Upturned Beds

by Sarek and Amanda Archive Maintainer (Selek)



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: F/M, Joanna Bordelon, SandsOfVulcan, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-26
Updated: 2013-03-26
Packaged: 2017-12-06 13:59:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/736469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selek/pseuds/Sarek%20and%20Amanda%20Archive%20Maintainer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In response to questions about the upturned bed in the Vulcan's Heart.</p><p>Written by Joanna Bordelon (SandsOfVulcan).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Upturned Beds

Upturned Beds

Author: Joanna Bordelon

Email: sandsofvulcan@yahoo.com

Series: TOS

Rating: PG-13 (sex)

Character Code: S/Saa, Sa/Am

Summary: In response to questions about the upturned bed in the Vulcan's Heart

Disclaimer: Star Trek is copyrighted by Paramount/Viacom. I do not own any of their characters. I have used characters and background material from "Vulcan's Heart" by Josepha Sherman and Susan Schwartz. Vulcan Language is from the Vulcan Language Institute's website.

Archive: Fine, but let me know where.

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Sarek walked as calmly as he could into the master bedroom and closed the door. He leaned against it for a second before crossing the room to retrieve his meditation mat from the foot of the bed. Amanda had made it for him after his first pon farr with her. She had jokingly told him that he would need it if he was to be married to her. "Though," she said, "I've never been able to say, 'I've driven a man to meditation'".

He turned it over and held the cool Chinese silk to his face. It was refreshing. He lay the mat silken side down and assumed his meditative position on the rougher side of it. It was black, with gold metallic hand embroidered Vulcan lettering on the edges. A quote from Surak, it read, "Ma etek natyan -- teretuhr lau etek shetau weh-lo'uk do tum t'on".

*We have differences. May we together become greater than the sum of both of us.*

The red silk on the back had been Amanda's choice. It had a flame pattern woven into it. She had wanted to reassure him that nothing he had done during the fires had changed things between them. He had been so worried that he would hurt her, and instead she had been in complete control. She had claimed that her first experience with his pon farr had made their bond stronger. She had been right.

The last few days had been difficult. Pon Farr had again ruled his life, but this time the fires were not his.

It had begun with the arrival of a shuttle carrying his daughter-in-law, Saavik. His son could not be found, but wherever he was, he was in grave danger. His fires were consuming his wife. Only female healers had been able to see her. He had not been allowed near her. He could not encourage or comfort her. He could only worry for them both.

This morning she had begun to convulse, mildly at first, and then more and more violently. Her healer, T'Selis had offered to take her Katra, but Sarek knew that this would accelerate her decline. He had made her to continue to suffer. For what? An illogical hope that his son would be found? Of course, T'Selis did not understand how he could be so cruel, but T'Selis did not know his son as he did.

Towards midday, a wild hope arose when he was informed that he was being given custody over certain Romulan defectors. Later, there standing before him was his son, upheld by a ragged and tired looking centurion with a fiery determination in his eyes.

In the evening, he had returned from the medical center to do what he must. He melded with the Romulan, Ruanek, to ensure that he was no threat to Sarek's house or the Federation. Sarek already knew all he needed to know from his personal physician, who had seen the Romulan earlier for his injuries. Ruanek bore the same mark as Saavik. Surely Ruanek knew of Saavik. The meld confirmed it.

And now Sarek sat on his mat, too tired to meditate; too tired from worry, grief, hope, joy, and revelation to master his emotions. He tried one more time to find his calm center, and then knowing that he would regret it in the morning, he surrendered to bed and to sleep.

At the close of the previous day, he had known his son Spock would live. He had already determined to offer Ruanek a place in his house as well. At the dawn of this day, T'Selis had informed him that Saavik had regained consciousness. She suggested that this was a good sign.

Days later, Sarek led Spock's friend Dr. Leonard McCoy down the hospital corridors to a restricted area. It had not been easy to gain McCoy access to this part of the hospital, but Sarek had prevailed by insisting that tradition allowed Spock his friend at this time.

When Spock opened the door of the room, Sarek caught a glimpse of something that took him years away. He found that he had to quickly excuse himself. No doubt Spock thought his father was uncomfortable with the scene, but the truth was that Sarek needed to return home to meditate before he himself lost control.

Saavik relaxed as McCoy led Spock from the room. Both she and Spock were barely holding on to control. Now that Spock was gone, she would have time alone to meditate and prepare herself for the ceremony to come.

It had been five days since Spock had come to her. She didn't remember or maybe she did. Perhaps those memories were Spock's, left over from the closeness they had shared while the fires swept them. Spock had told her that she didn't respond at first. He had pleaded and begged and reached for her mind over and over until at last he had contacted her. She had seen his fear. It startled her to think that the man she thought she knew so well could succumb to emotion. It startled her more that the emotion he felt, he felt because of her. The doctors had said she would die. She was pleased that he had refused to believe them.

He had been so gentle at first, as if anything else would be too much for her body that had already suffered from the unrequited fires. He said that whenever he had touched her, she had convulsed. He had been afraid to touch her after the first time, but the doctors assured him that his touch would be her cure, if it was to be. And finally, she began to feel him there, and to feel what he was doing. And she responded happily, passionately. Surely a pure Vulcan would not have responded so. Neither of them questioned their passion, until the bleeding began.

It began slowly and then more and more. She felt Spock distance himself from her and struggle for control as he bid the doctors enter. They assured him that he had done nothing to injure her. "This is her body's way of saving itself. No child will result from these fires. She has suffered too much. Her body will not support a pregnancy at this time," they had told them. "You are not hurting her. Continue until the fires are quenched."

Spock remained in the corner while they had examined Saavik. After they left, she went to him. He was terrifying. Anger filled him and for a brief moment she feared he was angry with her for not bearing his child.

He crossed the room and upturned the bed in one massive sweep. Saavik shrank back.

"I seek to bring them peace, and they bring me none! Why do I care for them when even you, my wife, do not?! What have they cost me? A child? What will they cost me before it is all over?"

When he turned to her again, he was himself. She took him in her arms and repaid his gentleness. "Perhaps next time, my husband," she had whispered.

Sarek walked as calmly as he could past all the staff into the master bedroom and closed the door. He leaned against it for a second before crossing the room to retrieve his meditation mat from the foot of the bed.

*Amanda, how I wish you could have seen it. The bed, Amanda, the bed.* Slowly, in the privacy of their bedroom, the corners of Sarek's mouth rose. He managed to stifle the incredible urge to laugh. He lit the firepot and placed his mat before it, but not before rubbing his cheek with the silken side. Quietly he sunk into meditation and his own memories of fire, passion, and upturned beds.

END


End file.
